The Sword
by CTHKSI
Summary: What happens when the champions gather together and there's only one sword?
1. The Sword

The Sword  
  
  
  
The sword lay in the middle of the Great Hall. All around, the dust motes danced, serenading the sunlight shining through the huge panes of glass. Sunlight beam down softly, warming the worn floor stones. The sun itself is peeking through the windows, making its light dance on the wondrous blade. The twittering of birdsong floats through the window. The soft breeze carries the smell of pine and wood, along with the sounds of rustling leaves. All this peace is about to end, however.  
  
Triss walked through the doors, spotting the blade.  
  
"What the heck is my sword doing on the floor?!" she cried, snatching it up and dusting it off.  
  
Then Tagg strode in.  
  
"What the HELL do you think you're doing to my sword????" he yelled, leaping forward and snatching the sword.  
  
"What the hell????? That's mine you twiddling twitchy ugly faced beast!!"  
  
"Nuh-uh. It's MINE!!!!!!!! I'm the Redwall Abbey Champion!!! Who the hell do you think you are??????"  
  
"Nuh-uh. I'm the Warrior of Redwall!!!! Who the hell do you think you are???"  
  
"Nuh-uh. You're not the Champion!"  
  
"Yuh-uh. I'm the Champion!"  
  
"Nuh-uh."  
  
"Yuh-uh"  
  
"Nuh-uh"  
  
"Yuh-uh"  
  
*this continues for some time.*  
  
With that, Mattimeo walked into the Hall.  
  
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOIN' WITH MY SWORD?????"  
  
"Huh? You too?" said a bemused Tagg. "I mean, IT'S MY SWORD!!"  
  
"No way! It's mine! Martin the Warrior chose ME!"  
  
"No, he chose me!"  
  
"No, it's ME!!!"  
  
"Yeah right. You're deluding yourself!"  
  
"And you're hallucinating!"  
  
"And both of you are clueless!"  
  
At that moment, Matthias decided to come in.  
  
"SON!!!! And that otter and squirrel! GET YOUR DISGUSTING PAWS OFFA MY SWORD!!!!!!"  
  
"Yes Father. . ." said Mattimeo meekly.  
  
"Who the hell are you, you old mouse?"  
  
"Yeah!"  
  
"Who are you callin' old, you ugly otter??"  
  
"Look who's talking, mouse!!"  
  
"Dad. You're not getting any younger. Get used to it."  
  
"Why you lil' rip! You shut your mouth!!"  
  
*sniff* "Yes Father. . ."  
  
At that moment, Martin decided to walk in. Silence fell as he stared at the fighting beasts with cold eyes.  
  
"MARTIN!" yelled all four beasts.  
  
"Tell them that YOU chose ME to have the sword!!"  
  
"Hah. You?? Martin, tell them I'm the Champion!!"  
  
"No!! I'm the Warrior of Redwall!!!!"  
  
"Who the hell are you kidding, old man? The sword belongs to me!!!"  
  
"SILENCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" yelled Martin.  
  
"So who does it belong to??"  
  
"Yeah!! Answer the question!!"  
  
"DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO BE SILENT?????"  
  
"Yes sir. . ."  
  
"I'm very sorry sir."  
  
"Aye, me too sir."  
  
"I understand sir."  
  
"Then I'll tell you. The sword belongs to ME!!"  
  
"WHAT????? But, but, but. . ."  
  
"But you said I was to be the protector of Redwall!!"  
  
"But you can't tell three other beasts to be the Champion!!!!"  
  
"Yeah, what Tagg said!!!"  
  
"My sword is mine. The blade was forged by the mighty badger lord [insert name here] for ME!" (fine, fine, I forgot the name, all right? Cut me some slack. . .)  
  
Then, Luke the Warrior walked in.  
  
"Say, that looks a lot like my blade. Though the blade looks much better. . ."  
  
"DAD?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"I have absolutely no clue."  
  
"Me neither."  
  
"Who's that other old mouse?"  
  
"I AM LUKE THE WARRIOR!!! THE FATHER OF MARTIN THE WARRIOR, THOUGH MY NAME SOUNDS MUCH BETTER!!!!!!!!!"  
  
"Sounds exactly like his son."  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Ya think?"  
  
"Martin!!!! That sword belongs to me!!!"  
  
"What??? But Dad. . ."  
  
"I SAID, give the sword to me!!!"  
  
"Hey! But you gave it to me!" said Martin meekly.  
  
"And you gave it to me!"  
  
"No, Martin gave me the sword!!"  
  
"No, it's mine, MINE I tell you!"  
  
Luke talked as he went out the doors.  
  
"I'm going to get a lawyer to prove that the sword is mine!"  
  
Hearing this, the other warriors chased after him yelling.  
  
"Hey! Come back here!! That thing's mine!!"  
  
"No, it's mine!"  
  
"MINE!"  
  
"Be quiet boy! The sword is mine!"  
  
The group continued to 'debate' as they ran out. The sword lay forgotten on the paw-worn floor, basking in the light of the sun while the dust motes continued to float lazily once again as the argument fading into the background.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
My first Redwall fic! Ok, it's dumb and pointless, but come on! Leave a review, even if it's only to tell me it's pathetic. Oh yeah, in the middle of doing this, I decided to read some fics. I found one where the warriors from the books fought over the sword too. I swear that I didn't copy. I got the idea before I read it! So please, don't accuse me of copying. ;_; And I haven't read most the books in a really long time, so I forgot most the names of the warriors. -_-v  
  
And here's the disclaimer: I don't own Redwall. Brian Jacques and probably Philomel, the publisher, does. I'm only 'borrowing' the characters and the story. . . ^_^; Besides, he wouldn't write this kind of plotless so-called 'story' anyway, would he? 


	2. The Bowl

The Bowl  
Everyone was gathered in the Great Hall, from the smallest of Dibbuns to the oldest of elders. Delicious food was piled on top of the groaning wooden tables. Food was passed from paw to paw, with much merry making. Happiness itself was in the air, along with voices calling out for a dish of scrumptious whatnot just beyond the reach of the paw.  
  
Actually, the happiness part was just a little misleading. Hares were stuffing themselves, causing those unfortunate enough to sit by them to starve. Dibbuns were smearing pudding and stuff all over their faces, the faces of their neighbors, and generally anything within reach. Those who cared for the Dibbuns tried to pull them out of their seats and up to the dormitories to take baths without getting the pudding on themselves.  
  
Cregga Badgermum had to skip out on the feast because she was lecturing certain warriors about running around like Dibbuns fighting over a toy. The poor cooks were stuck in the kitchen, trying to supply the demands of the Redwallers who were fortunate enough to enjoy themselves. Those who had to clean up after the feast were looking at the messes sadly.  
  
But enough about that. We'll focus on the cooks for now; the hapless creatures who are forced to slave away in the kitchens while others eat their food. . .  
  
"Hey, where'd all the shrimp gone to?" demanded Friar Hugo of Furrel, the assistant cook.  
  
"What the heck? I'm the Friar! And who took all the hotroot?!" yelled Friar Bobb.  
  
"Forget whose the Friar. We need to get the shrimp and hotroot soup out before the otters come kill us!" reflected Broggle.  
  
The thought of maddened shrimp-and-hotrootless otters caused the Friars and all the assistants to shudder and continue their frantic search for hotroot and shrimp with more zest.  
  
"Where is it?!"  
  
"I have no clue!!"  
  
"You should know! YOU'RE the Friar!"  
  
"Hey, I thought you were supposed to be the Friar!"  
  
"No, you."  
  
"No, it's you."  
  
"But you said it was you first!"  
  
"Nuh-uh, you said it first!"  
  
"I FOUND THE HOTROOT and SHRIMP!!" yelled a triumphant Broggle.  
  
"Yes! We found the stuff! And remember, I'M the Friar!"  
  
"Quick, make the soup! And I'M the Friar, you broggle ("Hey!" yelled Broggle) -brained pompous boorish bird!"  
  
A few seconds later, it dawned on the poor doomed beasts that there were only enough ingredients to make one measly bowl of soup.  
  
". . ." went all of them.  
  
"We are so dead," murmured all of them (isn't it funny how they keep talking together?).  
  
"Hey, wait a sec! WHO was the one who was supposed to gather the hotroot and shrimp!" demanded Friar Bobb.  
  
Everybeast in the kitchens went silent. Then slowly, all the heads turned toward Kurrain.  
  
"Hey, don't look at me!" the young squirrel exclaimed. "There was a, um, shortage of shrimp, yeah. And the hotroot erm, Veil stole because he uh, couldn't find the hemlock (or whatever he used to try to poison the water. It's been so long since I read it!)!"  
  
Soon, young Kurrain was surrounded by a sea of unbelieving faces, each determined to punish the one who would soon doom them.  
  
"GET HIM!!!!"  
  
"You dumb squirrel! You'll get us all killed!"  
  
The poor unfortunate soul was soon cornered. To his left and right were snarling faces, each wanting a piece of him. In front of him were fat Friars swinging dock leaves, ladles, spatulas, etc., around. He was going to be dead very soon.  
  
At that moment, just before they started to maim Kurrain, the doors burst open. The otters flooded into the kitchens. They looked around eagerly for the cauldron of delicious watershrimp and hotroot soup only to deeply disappointed. Heartbroken, they turned to the cooks as one. Seeing them cower caused their sadness to be wiped away thoroughly. Unfortunately for the kitchen workers, it was immediately replaced by hate.  
  
"Reeeeeeedwaaaaall!!!!!!!!" screamed Skipper of Taggerung.  
  
"Waaaaaater shrimp and hooooootroooooot!!!!" cried Skipper of Mattimeo  
  
"Moi zooooooop!!!!!" yelled Grumm the Mole, who was pretending to be an otter for the moment, waving his ladle about.  
  
Terrified, the cooks trampled the otters and ran out of the kitchens. Scenting fear, the otters (and one mole) quickly picked themselves up and gave chasing yelling war cries for their lovely, all time favorite, watershrimp and hotroot soup.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Wheee! I got up to the 2nd chapter! It's a record! *calls up Guinness Book of Records only to be hung up on* -.- Anyways, I want to thank everyone that reviewed (well I forced some of my friends to review. . . but it still counts!).  
  
Mithicoron- I reread the first chapter and I found out that it *was* really annoying. I *really* should've edited it and stuff in the first place. -.- Thanks for telling me though. ^_^  
  
Daughterofaragorn- No. I keep trying to read LOTR, but I keep falling asleep (literally!). The movie looks cool though. ^_^  
  
Disclaimer- Yes, I DO own Redwall! *looks at bookshelf* Then again, maybe not. Sigh. So fine. Redwall belongs to Brian Jacques and certainly not me, because I'm too poor to own it and I definitely cannot write anything with a plot. Sigh. . .^_^ But I DO own Kurrain! But that's only because I couldn't be bothered to look through all the two Redwall books I have to find a name of a kitchen helper. _ 


	3. Of Hares and Moles

Of Hares and Moles  
  
The kitchens were blissfully peaceful. The full moon shone serenely through the large windows, its glow lending a silvery sheen to the floor and countertops. The stars in the sky tried with all their might to help shed light on the darkened world below.  
  
However, if you would look closer, you'd see that the kitchens weren't so nice after all. A jug of pale old cider is dripping onto the floor. A smear of red is splashed on the stone of the wall and floor (O.O). Flour is everywhere, as if somebeast had "accidentally" hurled a bag of flour at various cooks. Dust is finding a home in sticky patches of honey, of which had a sticky paw print in each. Forks, spoons, plates, bowls, knives, and mugs were scattered on the floor, a formidable foe for unwary paws.  
  
Cregga had recruited Bella and Constance to help her stop the otters in their headlong attack. Winnifred, Brogalow, Ruff, and Tagg were identified as the instigators and were forced to help Brother Hoben with his recording duties. The others were sentenced the cleaning up the hyper and pudding smeared Dibbuns and putting them to bed.  
  
Now Foremole of Redwall ambled into the kitchens with a whole lot of moles.  
  
"Yurr, wut happened 'ear? It lookit loike a wurly-wind went paost."  
  
"More loikly 'n not," replied Gundil, as she bent to pick up a fallen bowl.  
  
The others followed Gundil's example. Soon, the kitchens were spankin' clean. Ravenous after their efforts, they decided to make their world famous deeper 'n' ever turnip 'n' tater 'n' beetroot pies!  
  
Being the generous beasts that they were, they decided to make the biggest, best-tasting deeper 'n' ever pie ole' Mossflower had ever seen, just in case a hungry beast decided to drop by the kitchens for a quick snack. Well, at least as big as the Abbey ovens could hold.  
  
They all rushed around, edicting eggs from their shells, flailing flour, battering butter, bashing beetroots, tackling turnips, and thrashing tater (I have absolutely no clue what tater is, but I'm pretending it's some kind of vegetable ^_^'). They got out mixing bowls, emptied the larder, measured the oven, and took orders from Rogg Longladle. If one were to look in, one would think he's in some sort of military base, so precise were the movements of the moles and so serious was the looks on each of their faces. They brooked no nonsense when it came to food.  
  
+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+  
  
It was near dawn. Moles were sprawled on emptied sacks of flour, snoring uproariously. They had been up all night. But there were also hard- faced warriors standing sentry, watching the ovens, to ensure against the burning of the crust, which was an unforgivable sin.  
  
Then, by some internal instinct, all the sleeping moles started to wake up and shuffle toward the oven. They were treating it with such reverence; it was like they were approaching a god. Lieutenant Billum doused the fire. General Longladle pulled on oversized purple and orange ovenmitts and slowly.slowly.opened the oven door. A wave of heat rolled over the spectators. With bated breath, they watched their brave General reached into the burning oven. He pulled out the perfectly sculpted pie carefully, so not to disturb its grandeur. Taking a big fork, he carefully poked the middle. Turning around, the onlookers expected the worse; an undone middle.  
  
The great General's face crinkled up into a huge smile. "We'm did it!!!"  
At his happy statement, the moles started to dance and cheer, glad that their hard work had paid off.  
  
_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_  
  
A bunch of scruffy hares were wandering the Abbey in hopes of finding a morsel to satisfy their growling tummies. For some strange reason, they decided to search the Great Hall first, looking for crumbs from the feast last night. I mean, come on, the kitchens, stocked with food (well, before) was right in front of their faces and they were looking for crumbs??? Hunger makes people to do strange things.(Don't let hunger happen to you. Hungry? Grab a Snickers©!) :D  
  
Suddenly, a sweet, sweet smell permeated the air. Heads snapped straight up. As though it were some kind of mass instinct, they all started to rush toward the kitchens. As they reached the entrance, a great shout and much stomping of paws were heard. Then, as the hares laid eyes on the colossal pie, all else was forgotten. All that ever existed, in the past, present, and future, was one deeper 'n' ever turnip 'n' tater 'n' beetroot pie.  
  
With a skip and a hop, they leaped over the heads of the celebrating moles and practically swam into their masterpiece.  
  
Silence  
  
Every mole was turned toward the drowning hares (who were eating their way out). A look that remarkably resembled hatred was embedded on the face of every mole. The hares looked up, started by the utter stillness, bits and pieces of pie falling out of their mouths.  
  
The silence was broken by a shout that was half-choked by a sob.  
  
"Spatulas, to the.sob.left! Ladles.sniff.to the right! Distribute armor (pots and pans worn on the head)! Knives to the back! Pans and forks, block the door! CHARGE!!!"  
  
The enraged cooks-turned-warriors moved to their designated positions and charged with bloodwrath in their veins. They rushed at the ignorant ones who had decided to tread on such sacred ground.  
  
Scared witless, the hares did the first thing instinct told them to do. They leapt over the searching ladles and jumped out the window, seeking open space in which to run. The crazed moles climbed out the windows and chased after the gluttonous hares, yelling for blood in the name of pie.  
  
Who the hell believes that moles are peaceful?  
  
------------------ I FINALLY UPDATED!!!!!!! Whew, that took a long time. *looks up and sees that she's talking to an empty auditorium* Hello? Anybody there.? Oh yeah, and I'm not good with mole-speech at all, so I didn't do the last sentence for the sake of clarity and the fact that it's late and I can't think straight right now. Probably why it's so insane. º_º  
  
Psycho Violinist of Silentwood: Uh....heh..^_^' I haven't read most the Redwall books in a long, long time, so I can't remember most the characters. :D And I was in a hurry to finish, so there weren't a lot of names there. ^_^  
  
Lyd: I know you haven't read Redwall since 6th grade, but come on. There's a mouse with a big sword that kills off rats. Of course there's violence. I was going to tell you in school, but I keep forgetting. ^_^  
  
Zerk: I was going to make the otters fight for the one bowl of soup, but I changed plans midstream. :D 


End file.
